


hold on (i'll fix you)

by lizamarri



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: BAMF Annabeth Chase, Basically, Dark Luke Castellan, Enjoy!, F/M, Hurt Percy, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Percy is a Dork, anyway, basically as much fluff as i could put amidst the angst, i don't know what this is, it was like supposed to be a quick drabble and then ????, just sayin, no one we love dies, so annabeth and percy go back in time after making a deal with kronos to kill luke, they're trying to change the timeline, what would happen if the romans did check the firing likes in boo?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizamarri/pseuds/lizamarri
Summary: What if the Romans had checked and fixed the firing lines in Blood of Olympus? What if Annabeth and Percy's only hope to save all of their friends that were killed in the bombing was to venture back into Tartarus to make a deal with the Crooked One?~Annabeth and Percy travel back in time to the day that Ms. Dodds attacked him in the museum to try and fix their future.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Chiron & Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	hold on (i'll fix you)

“We’re probably insane,” Annabeth murmurs. Her hand is wrapped tightly in Percy’s 

“I know,” He breathes. “But we’ve gone over this. It’s the only way.”

Annabeth bows her head. “I just want them back.”

Percy Jackson shields his girlfriend from the splitting storms of shattered glass, he covers his body with hers when the wind turns to ice. He feeds her ambrosia and lets her force nectar down his throat. This is the only way there’s any semblance of a happy ending, any small chance for a normal life. 

“We’re almost there,” Annabeth rasps. 

Tartarus has taken its toll. Both of them are covered in cuts and bruises, worn through to the bone. They went into the Pit by choice this time, stocked up with weapons and supplies. That didn’t make it less daunting, and to this day it’s the hardest decision Percy’s had to make. 

It wasn’t a decision following Annabeth for the first time, in case anyone’s wondering. No, that was never something he debated himself on. 

At least they knew what to expect. 

Annabeth raises a shaky finger into the seemingly empty abyss. “Look.”

At first he sees nothing, And then, a sudden glow seeps through the dust and blood that’s a permanent shroud around this place. The etched lines of a sarcophagus Percy spent months trying to forget materializes before his eyes. 

_ Jackson, _ a looming voice booms. It sounds like sandpaper and nails on a chalkboard, but Percy stopped being afraid a long time ago. “Kronos,” He proclaims. “We’re here to offer a gift.”

_ And what gift is that, Sea Child. What could you give me? _

“Freedom,” Annabeth chokes. “Freedom to wander around this damn pit wherever you please. Freedom to stay away from the box you’re penned up in.”

_ It seems no better then where I am. I will not help you _

“You will,” Annabeth growls. “You will help us because you are compelled.”

_ You compel me to nothing. _

Annabeth limps forward, standing right before the sarcophagus. “Actually, you owe me a promise.”

_ Stupid Wisdom Child. I owe you nothing.  _

“Family,” Annabeth gasps. “You owe me family.” A trickle of blood descends from her lip, creating the sickly look of an empousa on her face. “Luke Castellan promised me family. He delivered by keeping my family without him safe from you. But your war sparked others, and Luke’s promise isn’t fulfilled yet.” She leans closer, wiping the blood from her face so fast it smears ungainly. “You owe me the chance to get my family back. You’re going to swear on the River Styx to send me and Percy back in time to before he was claimed. You’re going to return us to our exact same bodies with all of our current memories, and you will tell no one of it. Then, when we call for you to take us home, you’ll do just that.”

A silence echoes from the sarcophagus.

“Or I could let you rot at the mercy of the Styx,” Annabeth threatens. “Without her curse you will be relieved of pain, free to move about your prison.”

_ As you wish, Wisdom’s Daughter, _ his voice booms.  _ But beware the fact that you could lose more then you will gain. _

Percy watches as Annabeth steels herself, spine turning to iron. That’s the last thing he sees before his vision cuts out in a spray of wind and glass. 

When he wakes up, everything is… different.

He feels lighter. The pain of Tartarus, the type of pain that he got used to over their trek, the type that feels like constantly being washed over with a high velocity acid hose - it’s gone. 

His body feels lighter. Looking down, his legs are-

Well, they're  _ short _ . 

He never really realized how much he’d grown. His arms are back to their spindly state that they were before his Half-Blood trials, at least that’s what he likes to call them. There was no one left but Annabeth to disagree with him, and at about six months after ditching the charbroiled ruins of their childhood home, they decided it isn’t worth their time to argue anymore. 

He snaps back to the present when Nancy Bobofit dumps sandwich crusts over Grover’s head. “It’s ok,” The satyr in disguise says. “I like peanut butter.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Percy mutters. 

Just like that he plays his part. Through the whole day, through Chiron asking him questions about the gods (that he can’t help but answer smoothly unlike the first time), through Nancy teasing him during lunch. He does everything the same, but manages to dunk her ass a little more soundly in the fountain this time. 

Whatever. She’s a bully, and he’ll always hate bullies. 

It’s only a matter of time before Ms. Dodds pulls him aside in the museum. His entire body is screaming for him to attack, but he can’t- he doesn’t even have Riptide. 

Not for long. 

Ms. Dodds makes her final stand, swooping towards him with the ever-menacing cry of, “Die, honey!” before Chiron appears and throws him Riptide. 

The day went fast but this moment- this moment goes slow. He catches the pen with smooth accuracy, uncapping it single handedly and sidestepping Alecto’s attack, then slashing through her ribcage. She screams and dissolves into yellow dust. 

For a second, he’s proud. Then he remembers- he’s supposed to be afraid. Percy caps his weapon and walks back outside, putting on a face of dazed confusion. 

“Ah, there you are Mr. Jackson,” Chiron announces. “And please, bring your own writing utensil next time.” He wheels his chair over and plucks Riptide from Percy’s hand. 

Percy keeps up his scared ensemble. 

“I hope Ms. Kerr whipped your butt,” Nancy grumbles. 

Percy frowns. “Who’s Ms Kerr?”

Grover fakes a look of concern, then points to a perky blonde woman. Percy doesn’t make as big of a deal as last time, simply rubbing his hand over his eyes. “I- I’m going to go wait on the bus. I don’t feel so good.”

Grover nods sympathetically, and Percy walks dizzily onto the charter bus. This was actually a smart move, because Exhibit A: Air conditioning. Exhibit B: Privacy.

He sighs and slumps down on one of the chairs. He wishes he could iris message Annabeth, or even call her. She’s probably miles away, wondering the same thing. 

Or he’s worse at pining for his partner then she is. The latter is probably more true. 

The latter is not, in fact, actually true. Turns out, Annabeth is equally a bad piner. In fact, she’s the worst.

She can’t stop imagining his smile. His eyes. His kisses.

You are twelve, she chides herself. Stop. 

Well, her mind isn’t twelve. Her body is through, which is beyond confusing. All the moves she’s learned since now (which are quite a lot) are no longer in her muscle memory. Speaking of muscles, her arms and stomach are not taunt with them as they were before. They’re close, but not quite there yet. 

Also, two of the weirdest things. First of all, no periods. And second… There’s no right way to say this. 

Her boobs are smaller.

It’s embarrassing to even think about it, but she forgot that little twelve year old Annabeth wore trainer bras because she hadn’t reached puberty yet. It’s oddly freeing, not having to worry about a mass of cloth and wire constricting her chest, and it feels like someone’s taken a two pound weight off her chest. Also, when she runs they don’t… er, bounce.

Gods, that sounds so weird.

That’s basically her life. Just like she thought in Tartarus, the monsters aren’t going to kill her. It’s the weirdness. Scratch a broom-wielding Titan off the list; she’s just travelled to the past with her boyfriend that she hasn’t met yet and is now surrounded by friends who are either dead or traitors. Or both. 

It’s painful to see camp still erect. Even without the mass of other cabins, it was still her home when nowhere else was. When those onagers torched camp into ruins…

It was the worst day of her life. Now everyone who was dead is here, and alive again, and-

She can’t think about the past. What matters now is the future- her new future, one she and Percy can create and sculpt to be whatever they want.

That’s the mission. Save the world, because the second chance they’re being given is unheard of, so there’s no chance she can mess it up. This is what she’s been training for, this is what her blood, sweat, and tears will fix.

The entire gods-damned world. 

“Annabeth,” Someone calls. “Time to get up.”

It’s Malcomn. She’s missed his pragmatism, hell, she’s missed the feeling of having a true brother. Percy is her everything, but Malcomn’s the one who knew her longest. 

Other then, well.

Luke. 

She knows what she has to do, but she doesn’t know if she has the strength to do it. She has to reap Luke’s soul with her cursed blade, and she has to be with Percy when she does it. 

So she’ll wait for him. 

Percy falls asleep on the bus. 

He wakes up when all of the other students board, Chiron through the wheelchair lift. “How are you feeling, Mr Jackson?”

“I think the heat must have gone to my head,” He explains. “I’ve been seeing some… weird stuff.”

“Hallucinations?”

“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hands. “I’ll be fine, this has happened before when I get too hot or too tired. I’ll sleep it off on the way back.”

Grover plops down next to him. He looks nervous, and the sight makes Percy want to cry. Grover was one of the first he saw to die, and years later it still hits him like a board to the head. “How are you?” Grover asks. 

“I’m ok,” Percy sighs. “Heat stroke, probably. No big deal.”

It’s hard to remember what happened next, probably because this was over six years ago for him. All that’s left is that he gets back to school, takes his final exams, fails them, and goes home. There’s also the Fates, Montauk…

His mom. 

He won’t let Hades take her again. He has to speed this up. 

He needs Annabeth. 

“Hey,” He asks Grover. “Where do you go after school’s over?”

“W-what?”

“You know,” Percy prods. “During summer. I’m probably not gonna be here next year, and I don’t just, like, not want to talk to you again.”

“Uh…” Grover says. His trembling fingers pull a card from his pocket, handing it to Percy. “Here. That’s my summer address.”

Yes. Yes yes yes. Perfect, now he has an excuse, a reason that he would know where camp is. 

That night, when they're all in their dorms, Percy climbs out the window. There’s a backpack on his shoulders, filled with clothes and snacks. He knows that with a half-blood as powerful as he is (was?) that any journey could be anywhere to double or hextuple the original time. Hell, hextuple is what happened with traveling to Rome. 

He pauses outside the window, closing his eyes and remembering that trip. When he held Annabeth in the pegasus stables, when he accidentally spilled syrup in his orange juice, and Frank turned into a bulldog. Fighting Polybotes with Jason, going up against Chrysaor with Dolphin Frank and the ice chest, gods, even Shrimpzilla. 

It was like they were impenetrable, for a minute. Before Rome. 

Before Tartarus. 

Percy lets go of the rail, sailing the few floors to the ground and landing spryly on his feet. His muscle memory may be gone, but his brain remembers how to move. He doesn’t stick the landing though, he wobbles. 

Percy takes one last look up at the window, still glowing a faint orange from the lamp Grover always insists is on. Then he turns, and steals into the night. 

It’s dark, that’s all he can really register. The familiar weight of Riptide graces his back pocket, stabilizing his mood.

Yeah, about that. It was difficult, but he managed it. Riptide belongs to him, it always has. It’ll return to his pocket like it did before now. 

He hails down a cab, thanking the gods for the wonders of New York and midnight taxi service. Climbing in, he gives the address of his apartment. 

The cabbie nods, probably regretting his decision to take the late night shift if that means he has to ferry barely teenage boys back and forth around the city. But, he drives on. 

Percy’s plan is simple. Get to his house, tell his mother where he’s going, and then take the car and drive there himself. 

The last part he’s not going to tell his mother, though. She’d kill him if he took her car. 

The taxi driver drops him off in front of the apartment, and he opens the door and climbs the stairs, using the key that his mom gave him for emergencies. Everyone is asleep, Gabe in front of the TV with a half-drunk bottle of beer in his hand, and his mother probably in her room. He crawls into his, and despite the reek of Gabe’s beer and cigarettes. He’s been moving too much for his newly weak body to handle, for he’s been used to his strength as an almost-adult. He sinks down to the floor, curling up in a little ball and falling asleep before he can think of anything else. 

He wakes up to the sun. 

It’s warm, and his back hurts. The scent of stale beer assaults his nose, and he gasps for a breath. Percy stands up slowly, opening the door. His mother is standing in front of the stove, cooking something that smells wonderful,

“Hi mom,” He says.

Sally Jackson whips her head around, and her eyes bug at seeing her son. “Percy? Honey, what-”

“I’m sorry,” Percy mumbles. “I can’t stay here, I have to go. There’s too many monsters, and I have to keep you safe.”

Sally pales. “Percy, what did you see.”

“A fury,” he says. “I killed her, with this.” He takes out Riptide and elongates it, the wicked blade extending through their tiny kitchen. Sally gasps, stepping back. Percy quickly caps his weapon. 

Sally wraps her arms around him. “Oh baby,” she mumbles into his ear. “I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

“It’s my dad, isn’t it?” Percy asks. “Poseidon.”

If possible, Sally pales more. “How-”

“Water’s been doing… weird things,” Percy explains. “I think I pulled Nancy Bobofit into a fountain today. And the Furies- we’ve been studying them in Mythology class. Greek and water usually mean Poseidon.”

Sally only hugs him further. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

“Mom,” he laughs. “It’s my turn to protect you. From him, especially.”

Gabe whoops at the television, further proving his point. Percy’s gaze hardens. “I know why you married him, to keep the monsters off my trail. He’s been hitting you, Mom. You don’t have to put up with him anymore.”

“Percy,” Sally whispers. “Honey-”

“I’m serious,” he says. “You don’t have to see his ugly face ever again. I’m going to camp.”

Sally’s face falls. “Camp?”

He hands her the card. He’s known that address for six, long years. “I’ll be back, ok?”

“Honey,” Sally says. Percy tenses, waiting for her to say he has to stay here. “Be careful baby, alright? I can’t-” her voice breaks. “I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t,” He promises, shouldering his backpack. “I love you.”

Sally hugs him one last time. “I love you too honey.”

“Hey Sally, you gonna finish that breakfast soon or what?”

Something in his mother’s eyes hardens, and Percy knows his mom’s gonna be just fine. He turns, tracing one last look over his mother’s face, and then steps out of the apartment. 

The funniest part is, Gabe never even noticed. 

What he really didn’t notice is how Percy grabbed his keys from the hook. 

He walks over to the car, opening the doors and climbing in. His feet are a bit short to reach the pedals, but he’ll make do. He sticks the key in the ignition, then turns the car on. 

Traffic. Is. Murder.

He’s praying to the gods that no one notices a literal twelve year old driving down the streets of NYC. Thankfully, it’s early enough that no one cares. 

Eventually, he navigates off the crowded streets and onto some of the country roads leading to Long Island. A thunderstorm is brewing overhead. “Schist,” he mutters. Lightning flashes above him, and Percy presses harder on the pedal. The Camaro zips down the road, seemingly outrunning the storm. Rain begins to pelt on the windows and windshield. He activates the window wipers, but it doesn’t make much difference. 

With his sight practically gone, Percy is forced to drive blind. He zooms down the road, and breathes a sigh of relief when Half Blood Hill looms before his view. 

It’s in that moment everything falls apart. 

Thunder booms above him, and then everything is weightless. The car floats before exploding. 

When Percy wakes, rain is pouring on his face. The roof of the car is cracked open like an egg. He crawls through the crack, barely registering the blood from scratches the jagged metal’s opened up. He rolls to the ground, gasping for a moment in the rain. A roar snaps him to attention. 

It’s the Minotoar.

When rain begins to fall, Annabeth knows. It’s Percy. 

Instead of everybody who runs inside in confusion, Annabeth grabs her dagger and her boots. She dashes into the rain, ignoring Malcomn shouting after her. The only thought in her mind is Percy, Percy, Percy. 

Wind and water rip into her, pushing her back and buffeting her body around like driftwood in a wave. Annabeth screams, fighting through it. She reaches the border and screams into the sudden dark that shouldn’t be there. “PERCY!”

It’s the Minotaur. 

Another voice rips through the dark, high and desperate. It’s different from the voice he knows, but it’s familiar enough.    
Annabeth. She’s screaming his name. 

He crawls towards the noise, letting the rain energize him. The water sends a pleasant tingle of power through his body. He struggles through the rain to Annabeth’s voice. The wind knocks him down, but he gets up again. Percy extends a hand, reaching into the darkness. 

Fingers brush his and their hands grasp tight. Percy grabs her wrist, and she hauls him over the border. He can hear her yelling for the borders to give him permission to enter, and then he’s falling into her arms. It’s windy, dark, and wet, but he doesn’t care. Percy looks at her face, young and the one he used to know and still does. He kisses the corner of her mouth, closed lips on skin. He can feel her smile. 

The Minotaur roars again, and Percy snaps out of it. He grabs Annabeth’s hand and they run for the hills. 

Dashing through the rain, the storm lessens as they get closer to the U of cabins. The magic is trying it’s best to keep the storms away, but the efforts are weak compared to Zeus’s wrath. 

Percy stops, rain and wind whipping his hair. Annabeth yells something in his ear, it sounds like “BEHIND YOU!”

He spins around, and the Minotaur looms above him. The sight makes his small body want to shiver and shake, but he stands firm. Annabeth’s beside him, like always, and there’s no reason to be afraid. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see kids emerging from the cabins as the storm lessens more. Zeus must think he’s going to die by the Minotaur, and that he’s done enough for today. Percy could care less. 

He reaches into his pocket, drawing Riptide. Annabeth tilts her chin up, hand going for her knife. But Percy knows it’s his monster to slay.

The rain lessens to a drizzle, and the sun peeks out from the clouds. Percy extends Riptide. The sight of Celestial Bronze makes the monster flinch. He can hear a few faint words from other campers.    
Percy holds the sword up. He has the will of the sea in his bones, and the power of it too. He runs towards the monster, head held high. Leaping up, he uses the water still dripping from his clothes as power. Percy vaults off the Minotaur’s knee, swinging around his arm and scrambling up to his shoulders. He yells in rage, and buries his sword hilt deep in the monster’s neck. 

The Minotaur crumbles to dust, and Percy leaps off towards the safety of the ground. He hits the dirt hard, rolling to a stop with a groan. Riptide is just outside of his hand, he reaches out and grabs it. 

“PERCY!” he hears someone yell. 

“Annabeth,” He groans. “Annabeth, I’m fine.”

She’s kneeling beside him, knife in hand. “You should have let me kill it.”

“My fight,” he mumbles. “Didn’t want you to-”

“Get hurt? I’m far more capable then you. I can handle a Minotaur. You, however cannot.”

“I just killed it in less then a minute.”

“Easily,” she amends. 

The rain slows to a stop. The sun comes out fully behind the clouds. 

He hears a familiar voice babbling behind him. “Grover?” he grunts.

“Annabeth, who is this?”

He knows that voice. That’s Luke’s voice. 

He stands up, first to his knees, then to his feet. It takes longer then it should. Annabeth grabs his wrist and helps pull him up. Despite feeling short, he stands tall. “I’m Percy Jackson.”

“Perseus-” Chiron starts.

“Percy,” He says. 

“Percy,” He amends. “You have slain the Minotaur.”

He just nods. Annabeth grabs his wrist. They’re both soaked to the bone, and he can feel her shiver. “Annabeth, you should dry off-”

“No,” she commands. “I brought you in. I’m staying here.”

“You’re going to catch a cold-”

“I’m fine!” she cries.

Percy shakes his head. “No, you’re not. You’re shivering.”

“Percy, I said I was…” Her voice trails away as the shivers stop. Her hair transforms from wet and scraggly to dry and soft, natural curls tangled together. Her shirt dries, it’s no longer stuck to her chest. Water peels off of her legs and her shoes- within a moment, she’s dry. 

Percy realizes he is as well. 

“T-thanks,” She stutters. “Percy…”

He can see the shimmering before everyone else reacts. Annabeth and Chiron are the only ones who aren’t surprised. A glowing green trident is suspended over his head, glimmering in the light. 

“Perseus Jackson,” Chiron breathes. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, all hail the son of the Sea God.”

The rest of camp kneels, even Chiron bows. Even Annabeth sinks to one knee, her face impassive. 

It’s awkward, to say the least. The first time he had been high on adrenaline and fear. “Please, uh, don’t…?”

Annabeth stands first, then grins. “Seaweed Brain.”

“What now?” He plays along.

“You're a Seaweed Brain.” She crosses her arms. “Your brain is full of seaweed.”

“Alright,” he clicks his tongue. “Wise Girl,” Percy tilts his head. “Yeah, that works.”

“Percy,” Chiron sighs. “How did you even-”

“Grover gave me the card for this place when I asked for his summer address. How long did you think you could keep convincing me I was seeing things? Grover’s a horrible liar, and Ms. Dodds was obviously a Fury. I may be an idiot, but I’m not that stupid. The blade says Anaklumosos. Riptide, right? Greek swords, Greek monsters, come on, this place is called Half-Blood Hill. It went pretty fast after I just accepted magic was real.”

Chiron blinks at the speech. “Alright then. You seem rather well acquainted with Ms. Chase, could she show you around? Annabeth?”

“Sure,” She says. “Come on Seaweed Brain, I’m kind of excited to see you fall off the lava wall.”

“Of course you are,” He sighs. “Gonna push me off?”

“That would ruin the surprise.”   
They walk off together, leaving a surprised crowd of campers. 

“Everyone return to your activities!” Chiron cries.

Annabeth drags Percy away, to the woods. He grabs her hand, and she giggles, clasping it tight before breaking into a run. 

She drags him through the brush, under low hanging trees and over the occasional log. They break out of the trees on the other side of the canoe lake, and Percy runs straight in. The water pools around him, like it’s welcoming a long lost friend. “What, Chase,” he laughs. “Scared?”

Annabeth shakes her head playfully. “No matter what situation, you’re just a regular old sunshine, aren’t you?”

“We aren’t dying yet,” Percy reasons. “Kiss me.”

“We’re twelve,” Annabeth laughs. 

“We’re seventeen, actually,” Percy says. “You’ll be eighteen in a month or so.”

Annabeth wades into the water, feeling the water soak her sneakers and socks. “You better dry me off after this.”

“Sure,” He laughs, holding out his hand. Percy’s backing up steadily, now up to his waist in lake water. “I’ll say it again- scared?”

Annabeth throws her head back and laughs, blond curls tossing in the wind. She walks in farther, letting the lake soak her shorts, then her shirt. By the time she’s finally caught up with Percy, the water’s just below her shoulders. Her hair floats on top of the water, creating an aquatic halo around her shoulders. 

Percy grins and tugs her under. 

For a second, everything is water and seaweed until Percy conjures a bubble underneath the lake, large enough for their bodies. Annabeth swims into it.    
Gravity is strange down here, it’s like there is none. She’s floating as though she’s in space, kept in suspension by the tension around her. 

When Annabeth tangles her hand through his hair, Percy doesn’t see the little twelve year old who was desperate for a chance to get out of Camp and prove herself. He sees the love of his life, his girlfriend who he knows everything about. The tilt of her eyebrows when she laughs, the way she does everything with so much purpose. He’s known her for years, she’s his Wise Girl.

He’s smiling when she kisses him. 

When Percy closes his eyes, he forgets that they’re in the past. He forgets everything, that they’re even in a lake. All he can see is his little apartment with Annabeth that he has in Manhattan, that’s ridiculously overpriced but paid for by Annabeth’s massive architect job remaking Olympus. They go to the local high school together, as Annabeth would probably break up with him if he didn’t get his diploma. 

His hands encircle Annabeth’s waist, pulling her flush. She giggles, kicking her legs in the strange gravity. Her hair floats behind her, and she looks like an angel. He couldn’t wish for anyone else. 

Eventually, their situation bleeds into the moment. Annabeth releases him carefully, and Percy pushes the bubble to the surface. They break the water, and Annabeth breathes deeply. She bites her lip hesitantly, and Percy lets the water push them to shore, this time on the side of the lake closest to Camp. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” She says. “Oh Percy, don’t be. I just… I wish I didn’t have to kill Luke.”

“I can do it,” Percy pleads. “You don’t have to take this kind of pain.”

“Percy,” Annabeth laughs. “You fell into Tartarus with me. I can take killing the man who had Beckendorf murdered. I’ll do it for him, and Lee, and Michael, and Silena, and everybody else that war cost us. I’m doing this for camp.”

Percy sighs. “Alright. But I’ll be there with you, every step of the way. I promise.”

“Come on,” Annabeth says. Percy flicks a finger, drying them both up. “Thanks,” she laughs. “We’d better get back.”

Percy grabs her hand as they walk across the strawberry fields. 

A man steps out from the trees, face set blank in stone. The scar across his cheek stands out in harsh relief to the sunlight. He watches the little duo leave, before retreating himself. 

He has two half-bloods to kill. 

~

Annabeth walks Percy back into the U of cabins, acting as though she’s given him a thorough tour of the strawberry fields, canoe lake, woods, and the cabins. 

“This place is pretty nice,” Percy says. 

‘Yeah,” Annabeth remarks bittersweetly. “It’s great. It’s like my home, I’d do anything to keep it safe.”

“Anything?”

Annabeth freezes. She turns around to the speaker of the word. “Of course. You of all people would know that.”

Luke laughs cruelly. He rests Backbiter lightly on his shoulder. Chiron’s standing next to him, full horse legs out. He stands taller then the rest of them. “Anything… is killing me involved with anything?”

Percy automatically takes a step in front of her. They’ve attracted a crowd. 

“Is what he told me true, Annabeth?” Chiron asks. “Are you really plotting to kill Mr. Castellan?” He says it like he thinks it’s insane, which it probably seems. Percy looks around. Not only does he see people he knows, now all gone, but he sees people he lost long ago. Michael Yew, Silena Beuregard. Charles Beckendorf, and Lee Fletcher. People who were gone long before Octavian’s purge. The sight only fuels him to kill Luke more. 

Annabeth lifts her chin, cementing her glare. “Why would you think I wanted to kill you?”

“Because I heard you say it,” Luke growls. “After you flirted with Jackson in the lake. I’m not stupid, Annie.” Annabeth flinches at the nickname. 

“That’s enough, Mr Castellan,” Chiron warns. “You must have misheard.”

“She was plotting to kill me!” Luke yells. “Did none of you hear that?”

“Well how about you hear this!” Annabeth shrieks. “Your sword is made out of Celestial Bronze and steel. What good half-blood would want to hurt a mortal? What good person, what hero, would make a blade capable of killing the people who are innocent in all of this.”

“Nobody’s innocent, Annabeth,” Luke grinds. He edges forward, Backbiter swaying mesmerizingly in his hand. “Nobody.”

Annabeth screams in rage. “You took everything! Don’t you understand? You take, and take, and take, and you kill because you want to! You’re working for him, doing his biddings all the way from Tartarus! You have no soul, Luke Castellan, you’re a monster!”

Luke breathes harshly. “What are you accusing me of?” His tone is disturbingly cold, and the demigod’s surrounding them are silent. 

“Traitor,” Annabeth spits. “Traitor to the gods.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Luke scoffs. Chiron looks on with a combination of confusion and concern. 

“You’re working for Kronos,” Annabeth gasps. “You stole the lightning bolt from Zeus’s throne room when we went on that field trip. You convinced Ares to steal the Helm, you’re provoking a war for him. The Crooked One. I know who you are, Luke.” The last part is particularly desperate. Percy’s never seen Annabeth so ragged, so emotional in a bad way. “I know what you are.”

Luke’s gaze hardens further. “This is crap, you know that? Why would I betray the Gods? Annabeth, you need help.”

“No, you have every reason to betray the Gods,” Percy proclaims. “Your father sent you on a pointless quest, and you came home with a horrible scar and nothing to prove for it. You think Hermes let your mom go insane by trying to become an Oracle because he wanted to. You have plenty of revenge built up in you, enough to betray everyone in this camp.”

Luke snarls. “You don’t even know that. You got here today, Jackson. Know your place.”

“I know my place,” Percy growls. “I’m the Son of Poseidon. I’m the ‘child of the eldest gods’. I’m the hero from the prophecy. But I’m not going to get my soul reaped.”

Luke tilts his head. “You think you’re the hero? Charming, Percy, really. Totally not self-obsessed and completely-”

Annabeth draws her dagger, running towards Luke. He sees her coming, but she ducks beneath the swing and plunges her dagger in his chest. Luke gasps, doubling over. The other campers scream, jostling and trying to run forward. Chiron holds them back. 

Luke grimaces. “Annabeth? You’d… try to kill me?” He pulls the dagger out of his stomach, flinging it towards the woods. “That’s treason right there. I’m loyal to Camp Half-Blood.”

“You’re loyal to jack-schist,” Percy growls. “Annabeth, go.”

She nods, running towards the woods for her knife. 

“Everyone freeze!” Chiron yells, but Luke’s already on the attack. He swings Backbiter over his head, and Percy grabs Riptide, flicking the pen off and blocking the strike.

The other campers around them shuffle and back up, fast.

Luke snarls. “You’re the real traitor.”

Percy remains silent, throwing Luke’s blade off his. He slashes forward, lunging once, twice, incorporating a little Roman style to throw Luke off. He slices up, carving a new cut across Luke’s face as he backs up, swinging Backbiter to Percy’s ankles. He jumps, using the momentum to push forward, swinging Riptide’s blade into Backbiter’s hilt, twisting the sword out of Luke’s hand. Luke drops it, lunging forward and grabbing Percy’s wrist, throwing Riptide out of his grip.

Percy rolls to the side as Luke grasps his sword and swings again, somersaulting onto the dirt and grabbing Riptide to block Luke’s next strike.

“You’ll die, Jackson,” Luke growls. “Traitors deserve to be murdered.”

“You’re right,” Percy pants. “They do.”

Luke freezes, inhaling a raspy breath. “Annabe…” He falls, leaving Annabeth with a bloody dagger. There’s a splash of Luke’s blood on her chin, making her look even more deadly. He sees something in her eyes, something of the Annabeth he saw in Tartarus when they faced an Army together. A kind of deadly determination.

Luke crashes to the ground, eyes open and glassy. A red stain bleeds from his sternum, blood pooling into the dirt next to him. He can hear Silena's sobs, desperate and hysterical. 

Annabeth breathes in a shaky breath. “Percy,” she whispers. “Percy, your hair.” 

He can feel it, brushing his ears. Why is his hair growing. Looking up to Annabeth, she seems taller, curls growing down her back at an alarming rate. 

_ Your quest is over, demigods _ , Kronos’s voice echoes in his head.  _ I never said you could stay _ .

Annabeth cries out, curling on the ground. It feels like his bones are turning to fire, growing and changing in ways they shouldn’t.

_ Your old selves will be quite confused when they come back to the real world and see Luke Castellan dead _ , Kronos muses.  _ But no matter _ .  _ I may never win, either now or in our time. But someone else will, and I will not save you _ .

Percy screams in pain, feeling his skin stretch as it’s pushed through time. Muscles grow out on his skin, pushing against his skin. Faintly, he can hear Chiron and other campers screaming and yelling in confusion.

As soon as it started, suddenly, it’s over. He looks down at his kneeling body, thanking the Gods he’s wearing the same thing he was in Tartarus. He’s probably taller, and his body looks and feels the same as it once did. “Annabeth?” he asks. His voice is deeper again. He can feel Riptide in his pocket.

She gasps for air, flinging her hair up as she trembles to stand. Percy runs, catching her. 

She melts into his arms. “I killed him.”

Percy just breathes into her hair. 

“I did it,” she breathes. “Now they’ll all be safe. Clarisse, Grover, even Beckendorf. None of them will die.” She clutches to him tighter.

“Annabeth?” Chiron asks, astonished. “How- who-”

She hugs Percy tighter, looking down at Luke, dead in his own blood with the cursed blade next to him. “Cursed blade, hero’s soul shall reap,” She repeats. “Luke promised, then turned. It was cursed, as his first gift to me. The prophecy is complete.”

“Annabeth-”

A wave of power echoes across the hills. “Hold onto me,” Annabeth whispers in Percy’s ear, barely audible. He nods, clutching onto her waist. 

With a final sonic boom, they’re gone, disappearing in a flash of pure power and light. 

**Author's Note:**

> whelp that was interesting 
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr @all-this-panic-still-no-disco and come to instagram for a trash can of my faves @liza_marri


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